aid. "then you are no better than father christopher and
the rest of them. your own, your own, ever your own! my father
is the king's man, and when he rides into the press of fight he
is not thinking ever of the saving of his own poor body; he recks
little enough if he leave it on the field. why then should you,
who are soldiers of the spirit, be ever moping or hiding in cell
or in cave, with minds full of your own concerns, while the
world, which you should be mending, is going on its way, and
neither sees nor hears you? were ye all as thoughtless of your
own souls as the soldier is of his body, ye would be of more
avail to the souls of others."
"there is sooth in what you say, lady," alleyne answered; "and
yet i scarce can see what you would have the clergy and the
church to do."
"i would have them live as others and do men's work in the world,
preaching by their lives rather than their words. i would have
them come forth from their lonely places, mix with the borel
folks, feel the pains and the pleasures, the cares and the
rewards, the temptings and the stirrings of the common people.
let them toil and swinken, and labor, and plough the land, and
take wives to themselves----"
"alas! alas!" cried alleyne aghast, "you have surely sucked this
poison from the man wicliffe, of whom i have heard such evil
things."
"nay, i know him not. i have learned it by looking from my own
chamber window and marking these poor monks of the priory, their
weary life, their profitless round. i have asked myself if the
best which can be done with virtue is to shut it within high
walls as though it were some savage creature. if the good will
lock themselves up, and if the wicked will still wander free,
then alas for the world!"
alleyne looked at her in astonishment, for her cheek was flushed,
her eyes gleaming, and her whole pose full of eloquence and
conviction. yet in an instant she had changed again to her old
expression of merriment leavened with mischief.
"wilt do what i ask?" said she.
"what is it, lady?"
"oh, most ungallant clerk! a true knight would never have asked,
but would have vowed upon the instant. 'tis but to bear me out
in what i say to my father."
"in what?"
"in saying, if he ask, that it was south of the christchurch road
that i met you. i shall be shut up with the tire-women else, and
have a week of spindle and bodkin, when i would fain be galloping
troubadour up wilverly walk, or loosing little roland at the
vinney ridge herons."
"i shall not answer him if he ask."
"not answer! but he will have an answer. nay, but you must not
fail me, or it will go ill with me."
"but, lady," cried poor alleyne in great distress, "how can i say
that it was to the south of the road when i know well that it was
four miles to the north."
"you will not say it?"
"surely you will not, too, when you know that it is not so?"
"oh, i weary of your preaching!" she cried, and swept away with a
toss of her beautiful head, leaving alleyne as cast down and
ashamed as though he had himself proposed some infamous thing.
she was back again in an instant, however, in another of her
varying moods.
"look at that, my friend!" said she. "if you had been shut up in
abbey or in cell this day you could not have taught a wayward
maiden to abide by the truth. is it not so? what avail is the
shepherd if he leaves his sheep."
"a sorry shepherd!" said alleyne humbly. "but here is your noble
father."
"and you shall see how worthy a pupil i am. father, i am much
beholden to this young clerk, who was of service to me and helped
me this very morning in minstead woods, four miles to the north
of the christchurch road, where i had no call to be, you having
ordered it otherwise." all this she reeled off in a loud voice,
and then glanced with sidelong, questioning eyes at alleyne for
his approval.
sir nigel, who had entered the room with a silvery-haired old
lady upon his arm, stared aghast at this sudden outburst of
candor.
"maude, maude!" said he, shaking his head, "it is more hard for
me to gain obedience from you than from the ten score drunken
archers who followed me to guienne. yet, hush! little one, for
your fair lady-mother will be here anon, and there is no need
that she should know it. we will keep you from the provost-
marshal this journey. away to your chamber, sweeting, and keep a
blithe face, for she who confesses is shriven. and now, fair
mother," he continued, when his daughter had gone, "sit you here
by the fire, for your blood runs colder than it did. alleyne
edricson, i would have a word with you, for i would fain that you
should take service under me. and here in good time comes my
lady, without whose counsel it is not my wont to decide aught of
import; but, indeed, it was her own tho
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